


voices of days not yet passed

by SquiddlesScribbles



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade, Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Illness, Romance, Slow Burn, canon-divergence, follows the game until it doesn't anymore basically, ill-timed prophecies, typical malkavian madness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29460774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquiddlesScribbles/pseuds/SquiddlesScribbles
Summary: Malkavian: the kooks, the lunatics, clan of the moon, those mentally deranged by the curse of Caine. With an unhinged mind, and the gift of insight- Don't put too much stock in what they say, lest you find yourself following the ravings of a madman.Who can you trust when your voices say to stay, but everyone else tells you to run?
Relationships: Sebastian LaCroix/Original Female Character(s), Sebastian LaCroix/Original Malkavian Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 10





	1. The Embrace

**Author's Note:**

> This malkavian player has a name, but it's probably not going to be referenced all that often if that's not your thing. :) Enjoy!

Something just… wasn’t right about the man with wiry hair and silly sunglasses who approached her- he seemed twitchy, betrodden with something weighing in his mind as he mumbled to himself, something she could only hear once he was closer. She was thankfully, standing in an open and public area- he couldn’t outright attack her, unless he was extremely crazy. Still, she was afraid he was about to ask her for something- money, drugs, the silver ring on her pinkie finger, and attack her if she didn’t oblige. As he stopped and peered over his sunglasses, his stare shook her to the core, anxiety eating at her chest for the split second it took for her to open her mouth. 

“Um… can I help you..?” Her voice rang out, sounding almost too loud as she stared into his heterochromatic eyes. She clutched her purse close to her side, ready to discard her heels and sprint if he turned violent. He just had such an unsettling, unstable aura around him- it made her hair stand on end.

Before the man opened his mouth, she felt the cold tendril of clarity ghost over her brain, her anxiety spiking for the slightest second before smoothing out as the fearful feelings she had towards the man instantly changed. “It’s your friend, Dale. Don’t you remember?” he laughed a little- like a mad hatter. “We were going to that party back at my place.”

Nodding slowly, she allowed herself to be led away. That made sense- she _had_ been waiting for someone outside of the restaurant. Walking away with her friend, she ignored the strange people walking down the sidewalk who had been waving her down, before they’d given up as she passed, into the den of the beast. 

~~~

“...Good evening, my fellow Kindred,” Sebastian LaCroix greeted, cold eyes sweeping the poor turnout for his summons. He had to quell the quiet rage at that fact- it was _disrespectful_ , the way he was regarded by the Kindred in the L.A. area. He’d have to make note of who hadn’t come, watch for any further insurrection from them. 

He continued to speak in a cool, detached manner as he paced the stage, glancing at the accused and his limp little Fledgling every so often, between perfectly timed glances at the audience and hand motions that conveyed a range of emotions he didn’t truly feel in that moment.

In reality, he was more irritated than he was passionate- a high ranking Malkavian, an old Kindred and a pretty decently reliable (for a Malkavian) associate, breaking a law that was so simple to follow. The turning of a victim was a ritual, it wasn’t something done by accident. What had been so important about this unassuming girl that would make him break the law after all of these years? And why _now_ of all times, when the tension between the Camarilla and that damned Anarch faction was so high? 

His eyes swept the crowd as often as he could as he talked, making sure they knew he was talking to _them_ and not some non-present audience. These were rules _they_ all needed to follow, and he really had to drive that fact home. He caught the Anarchs whispering amongst themselves with a twitch of his eyebrow, and the lingerie-clad Toreador girl blow a kiss at Maximillian Strauss. Others were watching with faces ranging from bored to bloodthirsty.

“...The accused that sits before you tonight was _not_ refused permission, indeed, my permission was never _sought_ at all. They were caught, shortly after the embrace of this Childe,” he said, throwing a glance towards the girl who was struggling a little in the arms of one of his guards, glancing every which way in a frenzied manner. Likely the dementation from her cursed clan taking effect, weakening her mind and filling it with the sound of voices, paranoia, other such mental afflictions. With the cursed blood of Mad Malkov, who knew in which way the Fledgling’s madness would manifest? It didn’t matter- she wouldn’t be alive along enough for anyone to find out. 

Pushing aside the strange seedling of remorse he felt towards the Childe, he continued on, hands clasped behind his back. “...but as some of you may know, the penalty for this transgression is death. Know that I am no more adjudicator than I am a servant to the law that governs us all.” 

Despite how important of a speech this was, Sebastian felt much like he was just going through the motions, speaking to a disinterested, unwilling audience. He just wanted to get this over with so he could return to his office- he had a stack of paperwork to attend to that he had left as soon as he’d had word of the Malkavian’s transgression. The proceedings were hastily thrown together, he was given a week to carry out the execution, a timeframe given by the elders who weren’t even present for it. 

Figures, they’d dump the dirty work on to him. 

Sebastian waved his hand as he gave the order to have the Malkavian man executed, the man’s head being lobbed off by the Sheriff’s blade as his flesh and bones turned to ash. Unfortunate but necessary, in order to fully display Sebastian’s hold on the power of the LA division of the Camarilla, and show to the Elders that he was _capable_ of maintaining order and making sure his subjects were law-abiding. He dismissed the horrified gasps in the crowd as he turned to pace towards the Childe. 

“...Which leads to the fate of the ill-begotten progeny.” He continued, addressing the crowd and their mixed reaction. Therese Voerman was stone-faced as always, the lingerie-clad Toreador was no longer looking at the stage, her hand covering her eyes, the small group of Anarchs that followed Nines were openly displaying their rage and hatred, while Issac Abrams, leader of the Hollywood Anarchs, and his Childe were watching with a more thinly-veiled displeasure. 

“Without a sire, most Childer are doomed to walk the Earth, never knowing their place, their responsibility, and most importantly, the laws they must obey, therefore I have made the decision to-”

“This is _bullshit!”_

~~~

“Go fetch me a damn blood pack,” Sebastian barked at the Ventrue guard who had been in charge of watching the Fledgling before the execution. The Ventrue Kindred scurried off, happy to be of service (more like happy to gain brownie points with the Prince), while Sebastian turned his attention to the fearful Fledgling in front of him. 

Her eyes were looking around wildly, flinching every so often from some unseen voice. A damn Malkavian, as if his problems weren’t numerous enough, now having some new, insane project to keep his eye on. He snapped his fingers in her face, catching her attention away from the ghostly whispers which plagued her. 

“I am sorry for the proceedings you had to witness today- law and order, after all, is such a fickle thing to balance.” Sebastian searched her face, as she seemed to be doing to him. The mad clan’s stare was always so… unsettling. Though her’s had a note of fear in it, too, which was fitting since she had witnessed him give the order to kill off her sire. He continued, anyway, “As such, to preserve the order, I’ve allowed you to live, despite myself. You’re my responsibility, now, and many are watching to see how I will proceed. You’ve been sired in very troubling times for our Camarilla, I hope you realize just the weight you may have in our new society…”

The Malkavian fledgling continued to stare, unsettlingly into his soul- to the point where he nearly felt compelled to look away, lest her insight give away the cards he held close to his chest. Her eyes were large and doe-like, one icy blue and the other a honey yellow, and if it weren’t for their mad tilt, they might have been considered cute, by kine standards, at least. He wondered very briefly if they were heterochromatic before or after her Embrace. She had short, chestnut-brown bangs, and the rest of her hair pulled up into a ponytail that curled slightly. If it weren’t for the blood staining her ripped up shirt, she could have just passed as a startlingly pale kine, some kind of movie star or some other Toreador occupation. 

“Who…” she said, quietly, eyes narrowing a little as if she were listening to something, before her face lit up. “Jester-Prince of the sand tower is missing his pail, turn it over and it’s full of crabs!” She said with a delighted little giggle. 

Sebastian’s forehead creased with confusion and offense. “You’d do well to refrain from repeating the things you hear from your ghostly little friends, lest you come across a kindred unwilling to humor your rantings. Your insight is nothing more than insane babbling, Child of Malkov.” he snapped, taking a small step back as he stared at her incredulously. He quickly tried to compose himself, assured that it really was just insane babbling- no _fledgling_ Malkavian could spout true prophecies straight from the Embrace, it just wasn’t natural. 

The Ventrue attendant returned with a blood back, which she then handed to the Fledgling. The Fledgling glanced between the two, before looking down at the blood pack she was holding. “Drink, I’m sure you’re famished after the events of this evening.” Sebastian said, waving away the attendant once more. The Fledgling did so, pressing her teeth into the bag with an air of uncertainty and slight embarrassment, before hunger won over and she slurped it down near animalistically. 

Once the pack was empty, she turned her eyes back up to the ‘Jester-Prince’, a new clarity in her gaze. She seemed a little calmer now, too, as if the blood staved off either the volume or her fear of the voices that had encaptured her attention previously. Now that she was able to walk without stumbling, he began to lead her towards the back door, wanting to get this interaction over with. “You will refer to me as Prince LaCroix, fledgling. To judge whether you deserved my mercy, I’ll be sending you on a trial to Santa Monica, where you will meet with an associate of mine by the name of Mercurio. Do you have a name you wish to go by, childe? Or rather, do you remember yours from when you were a human?”

The childe tapped her chin in an exaggerated display of thought, before giving up and shrugging. “The human version is dead and gone, the moniker for such a life should follow,” she replied, unhelpfully, with a sure nod. 

Sebastian sighed and resisted the urge to just… do away with the Fledgling there, muttering a “ _Quel souci…_ ” _What a bother…_ under his breath. “I’ll refer to you as the name on your identification card, Chiyo. I trust you’ll find your own way to Santa Monica.” He half hoped she’d get swept up by predators so he wouldn’t have to deal with her any longer, though he knew that _might_ look bad for him, considering he was responsible for her now. “Actually,” he paused from that thought, pulling out a cell phone to call up a cab for the girl. “Go through that warehouse, to the front doors, and there will be a cab waiting to take you to a temporary haven in Santa Monica. I trust you’ll be able to find _that_ on your own, at the very least. Mercurio shall be contacting you through an email service an associate of mine will be setting up for you, safe travels.”

The girl- Chiyo, was still just staring at him as he turned to leave, and he gave her an expectant look, prompting her to speak. “Something’s coming...” she said eerily, eyes wide and staring straight into his. Whatever fear she’d had of him previously either dissipated in conversation, or was set aside by the arrival of some new ghostly prophecy. Immediately, they heard the thunderous footsteps of approaching- and one, punctuating roar that could only belong to a Sabbat agent who didn’t care about the Masquerade. 

Sebastian waved her away towards the warehouse as his hulking Sheriff approached from behind him. “Just... go. My Sheriff will take care of the Sabbat, you should leave before you end up as a quick meal for some lowly shovelhead.”

The fledgling gave a short nod, her multi-colored eyes sweeping over his form once more before she stalked off, seeming to be muttering to herself. 

The Camarilla Prince let out a long suffering sigh as the Sabbat mongrels showed up on the opposite side of the alley that he was exiting, feeling the ghost of a headache beginning to pound at his temples. The 3 shouted words from that Anarch bastard had just made his life that much more difficult. 


	2. Settling In

Santa Monica was a city foreign yet familiar to the fledgling Malkavian- she’d been there before with some friends, back in college, to peruse the pier and hang out by the beach. It was a pretty dead town, but it had its merits- the beach, in her time, had never been all that busy, nor had the attractions on the pier. But now... she was seeing it now in a completely different light- full of _vampires_. If 2-weeks-ago Chiyo heard that, she would have laughed. If _middle-school_ -Chiyo heard that, she would have been so giddy and excited- probably would have begged her parents to take her there so she could ~mysteriously disappear~ into a YA Vampire novel-like adventure. The thought brought a fond smile to her face. 

Her dwellings on the past came to a halt as the cabbie dropped her off in front of a pawn shop, handing her a key with some kind of… knowing look. “Above the Pawn Shop,” he said, voice low. 

The Fledgling took the key and flashed a grin, “Thanks, First One,” she chirped, slipping out of the car and heading towards the apartment above the Pawn Shop. Her key slipped into the lock, accompanied by the sound of whispers in her ear. _He’s coming. Cranberry sauce._ Ever since she woke up in that hotel room, they’ve followed her everywhere... whispering things she wouldn’t have known otherwise- all buried deep in stuff that likely wasn’t real- like the one that whispered ‘Cane’ over and over when she was in the taxi. The man didn’t even have a cane, so she had no clue what the voice was trying to tell her. That he was into caning? Not her cup of tea, but who was she to kinkshame? She was a walking-talking-bumbling vampire-kink-haver’s wet dream. 

Chiyo knew, to an extent, she’d always been a little… mentally not all there- as a human (such a weird thing to think, that she wasn’t _human_ anymore), she’d suffered with bouts of mania and depression (and admittedly some pretty severe paranoia, but that was due to a particularly messy break up with a man that she knew full well could have killed her if he so pleased, but oh well. _Men_.)-- which she had _just_ gotten a handle on when _that man_ had approached her. She couldn’t even fully remember his face- just those eyes, those unsettling eyes. She wondered if her’s looked like that now.

As bad as her mental health seemed to be back then, it was never… this. At least half of the time she wasn’t really fully aware of what she was doing or saying- like the curse had trapped the logical part of her brain (that was carefully combing over her new condition) behind a wall. Most of the time, like that instance as she entered her new haven, she felt close to normal. It was all just… very random. She didn’t have a clue yet what caused her to act weird, like a “Malkavian”, and what allowed her to act normal. It was all just weird.

As she looked around her new abode, she could tell that this apartment had been… very well lived in. And a huge step down from the one she’d spent months saving up for. Ugh. Grimy, peeling wallpaper revealed equally grimy drywall, the floorboards were slightly rotted and they creaked when walked on, not to mention they seemed to be very hastily covered in a rug that looked like it had been dragged out of the dumpster. The metal bed frame in the corner was rusted and old, the mattress slightly askew with a bunch of questionable stains. She didn’t even want to get into how disgusting the _bathroom_ was. Even in the deepest pits of a depression episode, she never felt as disgusting as she did just standing in the middle of her new studio apartment. 

First things first, she bounded over to the desk, looking over the papers waiting for her- one which told her the password to her new, old beat up laptop, and one from a man named Maximillian Strauss. _King_ , a voice whispered, and she shook her head to shoo it away. Opening up the laptop, she found an Email from Mercurio, _Mercury_ , just as the Jester-Prince said there would be in an Email before that, as well as a Penis-Enlargement ad, very nice, something about a crime-puter, and one from ‘a friend’. She didn’t dwell on who that friend was or their puzzling Email, as she stepped away from the desk to let her eyes sweep the sad excuse of an apartment again. Her Jester-Prince had very kindly left her with a little money, so she found a corner store to buy cleaning supplies and other such necessities for setting up shop in that new apartment, figuring she could put off meeting Mercury for later- he was likely fleet-footing around to collect and distribute his messages and parcels, anyway, and he’d require her assistance by the next sunset. 

While scrubbing the tiles in the shower, Chiyo thought of her old apartment and what would happen to it now that she couldn’t really go back. How long had she even been away from it? Had anyone been by to feed her cat? _That_ brought a childish pout to her lips. The Jack had said she needed to leave everything and everyone from her old life behind, but her cat was not just _anyone_. Usually the kind older lady next door would go in and feed her cat when she was absent for a long time, so she didn’t have to worry about him going hungry, but… Dammit that was her _cat!_ No giant organization of spooky vampires could take that away from her. She grew a little excited when she thought of reuniting with her beloved, plus if she went to get her cat, she could grab a few of her things while she was there--only the necessities. 

She only had a few hours of moonlight left, but still, the fledgling stood and tugged on a coat the Jack had been kind enough to spare, before she stole away to her old apartment in Hollywood for her belongings. 

~~~

Prince LaCroix stood in the middle of the fledgling’s haven with his Sheriff looming behind him, looking around with his face pulled into an expression of distaste. The studio apartment was much more rundown than he’d thought it was- though it seemed as though the Fledgling was crafty enough to make it… something. 

The places where the wallpaper had been peeling or particularly stained seemed to be mostly covered up by posters and paintings, and an easel stood beside the bathroom with a half-finished painting on it, showing that she seemed to be the source of the artwork. The work wasn’t bad- it was clear she had some technical knowledge, and he wondered briefly if and where she had learned- her art managed to be stylistic, while still doing a fair job at mimicking that of the classics- if given the right recognition and time, she very well could have carved herself a permanent spot in L.A.’s art scene, though at this level her work was still a little amateurish. 

He drew closer to the easel to see what she was working on, when his nose picked up the very distinct scent of cat shit, his head turning to see a litter box jammed in the corner of the small bathroom, likely belonging to the black cat that had been furiously hissing and spitting at him from the bed. _God_ , he hated cats.

While he was surveying how the Fledgling had cleaned up the shitty apartment, he heard the sound of footsteps, keys jingling, and the Fledgling’s voice, so he turned towards the door with his hands clasped behind his back, cold and critical gaze ready. 

“... _I know!_ He was trying to climb your leg like a slug, and just as slimy and gross as one too,” Her voice rang out with a melodic laugh as the lock turned over and she entered the room, the rustle reusable bags following. Her eyes widened upon falling on the Jester-Prince, in the middle of her _shitty_ apartment, and she sputtered for a moment. “I’ll ring you up later, Jeannie, something just came up…” she said, snapping the clanky, early 2000s cellphone closed, and dropping it into her pocket. 

LaCroix looked _so_ out of place in such a dirty apartment, and Chiyo could only wonder just how much trouble she was in to get a personal visit from the man and his hulking Sheriff. “Um… hi?” Then her ears finally picked up the sound of her cat’s distress over the overlapping, excited voices that were ringing in her ears. “Oh, Bastard, hush!”

Now, it was the Prince’s turn to sputter. “What in the devil did you just call me-”

The Fledgling’s hands raised and waved quickly, a nervous (and probably slightly deranged) laugh falling from her lips. “No, nononono!!! That’s his name, Bastard, not- not yours, you’re the Je- um, Prince. Sorry, shit, sorry,” she gently smacked the side of her head, her skin twitching a little from the mistake. Everything she did now felt so exaggerated and over-the-top.

“It’s… quite alright, I suppose.” Sebastian replied, trying not to chuckle at such a name. That’s what _he’d_ name one of those hell beasts, it didn’t seem like something an obvious cat-lover would have picked out. He shoved aside the urge to inquire how she came to name it that, instead getting down to the matter at hand. “I’m here to inquire as to how you’re progressing in your trial run. I haven’t received any progress report from you, nor have you spoken to Mercurio about it yet, so I’m quite in the dark as to where you are in that. This is a _trial_ you know, so your level of success in my eyes _does_ partially depend on how swiftly you complete it.”

“Oh!! Well, um-”

“And I see that you’ve time to paint, chat, shop, _and_ re-acquire your feline, yet the warehouse remains standing. Have you given up? Because your existence in this society, this haven, even, rides on whether or not you’re a useful asset, you know.” Sebastian finished, not once faltering in his critical glare, even as her dark-colored lips were pulled into a childish pout. 

“I haven’t given up!” She affirmed quickly, setting down her reusable bags on the bed and picking up her cat, which calmed immediately in her arms. “I’ve… the daughters of Janus, you see, the dark one has a feud with the Nosferatu that has sent him into hiding! The light one is helping me win back the favor of the dark one by defeating a group of painted canvases and grabbing a pot of gold!”

Sebastian felt a stress headache begin to come on. _Damn_ Malkavians and their riddles, he swore it was impossible to get a straight answer out of any of them. He took a step forward, much to the displeasure of the cat in her arms, which wiggled free and trotted to the other side of the apartment, far from the Prince. He was tempted to use Dominate on her to get her to just leave and blow the damn warehouse into the pacific, but he wanted _her_ to exercise loyalty to him by her own free will. It was never good to have an operative that needed to be Dominated every time he needed them to do something for him. He caught her chin between two fingers, making sure her eyes stayed on his. “I expect the warehouse to be dust by next sunrise, do I make myself clear, Childe?”

The Fledgling was silent, her eyes piercing into his, before she nodded, feeling thoroughly chastised. “Clear as crystal.” she replied, turning her head a little to free her chin from his grip. A very, very small act of defiance that did not go unnoticed by the Prince. She looked back up at him, by her own free will this time, the gears very clearly turning in her head as she listened… _Jester’s a purveyor of the arts._ “How’d you like the paintings?”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, how did she- “Ah, yes, your… silly little art projects,” he said, taking measured steps towards one hanging on the wall close to her bed. There was no real reason why, but he didn’t want to reveal the fact that he had been admiring them while he waited for her. The painting in question was a beastly piece of a deer with it’s entrails strewn about, and she had done a well enough job of capturing the deer in what seemed to be mid-horrified scream. “Quite gruesome. Was this done within the past few days, or previous to your Embrace?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Previously, it won the blue ribbon in my University’s Gallery show, and I nearly ended up with coin for the canvas,” was her reply, as she looked at it fondly. It was the first award she’d ever won for her art, and the first time being offered money for her art. “But I didn’t want it to end up someone’s mantle piece, it came from my dreams.”

“I see…” So perhaps she’d been a little unstable even before her embrace. That would be something to note for the future, perhaps. Either way, it was back to business, as he strode towards the door. “Don’t give me any need to visit you again.” The Sheriff silently followed him out, having to duck to pass through her door, and then Chiyo was left alone once more. 

“ _Don’t give me any need to visit you again, nyeh!_ ” She mimicked in a silly tone, throwing a pouty glance towards her kitty. “Who does that Jester think he is, anyway?” she asked her cat- or rather, talked out loud, though she made it out so she was talking to Bastard. If she had a recipient for her rantings, it made her feel a little more… stable. She didn’t like feeling unstable- a weird thing to declare to herself, considering the way she talked now, but it was still true. 

Silently, she moved back to what she had been planning to do when she got home- put away the cat food and art supplies she’d bought, and go back to just… thinking. About her condition- it was nice to parse out the details of how she felt and reacted to it all, it made her feel slightly more in control.

She noticed by now that there were a few specific and kinda weird things about her condition (things that she wrote down in her notebook, it helped her to sort her thoughts and sort what was real from what wasn’t), such as the fact that she was often compelled to blurt out certain things the voices said with no real reason as to why she said somethings and not others, and also sometimes lost the ability to speak about things clearly- which was growing somewhat frustrating to her. It was like the words she _tried_ to speak in normal conversion were stuck behind a paywall, and the price was blood. When talking about certain things, it was easier to just speak in the garbled riddles that the spirits fed to her- when she tried to slow down and parse it out in a way that made sense, she felt exhausted afterwards. 

It was as if the curse of Vampirism had completely rewired her brain, if she revealed something not meant to be revealed so easily, it damaged _her_. Plus, sometimes... she didn’t bother trying to speak normally, since it was _really_ funny to see the way people reacted to her new way of speaking! And Chiyo had always been one to enjoy a good prank. 

Though, there were times when clear speech came _much_ easier, it seemed like when she was full, she talked closer to normal, and the hungrier she was, the more disconnected she felt from her “logical” side. The Jack had said she was “ _really_ fucked” for the clan she had been Embraced into, but despite all of that, she wasn’t all that sure about that speculation. Sure, it was a little difficult to come across as normal to Kine, but she’d always been a little wacky (she was an art student, what could she say?). 

Plus, she got to _know_ things- though she didn’t quite know exactly all that she knew, there were certain stuff from her ‘prophecies’, and from the voices that she could guess. (Though as said before, it was hard for her to voice the same conclusions to others. She could just say the puzzling prophecies outloud and hope the other person understood what she was saying). 

Like the daughters of Janus thing with the Voerman sisters- she may have only known what that meant because she’d taken a Roman Gods class back in her freshman year of college, but she still understood what it was referencing, and could act accordingly. Others were a little more confusing to her- why the Prince was a ‘Jester-Prince’, why Smiling Jack was ‘The Jack’, and why Maximillian Strauss guy from before had conjured the word ‘King’. She didn’t know enough about Camarilla politics to figure that one out. 

“You should keep an eye on him. You don’t know what cards he holds to his chest, young one.” A very _real_ sounding voice replied, and Chiyo’s eyes widened at her cat, that was still staring at her. 

“Bastard? Was that you?” She asked, crouching a little and beckoning the cat over. “Can you talk?”

The black cat only blinked at her, trilling a little to inform her that his food bowl was empty. She narrowed her eyes a little, but got up to feed him nonetheless. She supposed she’d just have to get used to weird things happening to her, a thought that carried her over to her journal, as she began to carefully scribble down the events of the day and her thoughts on them, as well as what the spirits had to say regarding the day. Routines seemed to be the key to keeping her head on her shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm... not totally sure if my explanation for my headcanon for the fledgling's brand of Malkavian madness makes sense? it was hard to rly parse out myself, so if it got a little wordy there towards the end, my bad ^^;   
> Thanks for reading!!!


End file.
